Chapter 5 The Girl in Gold

The Blackwell mansion had never gleamed so brightly. Every chandelier was polished, every marble surface spotless, every servant in perfect formation. It wasn't just a party. It was a performance.

Richard Blackwell stood in front of his floor-length mirror, fixing the knot of his tie with deliberate precision. This night had to be flawless. The media had started whispering about the mysterious girl who visited him days ago. The press buzzed with questions about Eniola. Rumors were rising like smoke, threatening to choke the empire he'd spent decades building.

So tonight, he would remind them all: the Blackwells were still powerful, still untouchable.

"Sir," the house manager said at the door, "the guests are arriving."

Richard turned, his face calm, unreadable. "Good. Let them see what strength looks like."

---

Ethan adjusted his cufflinks with a clenched jaw. He hated these parties. The polished lies, the empty laughter. His mind wasn't on social graces-it was on the file he found days ago. The truth about his name. Or rather, the lie.

"Your father's playing the perfect host," Jake said, sipping from a crystal glass beside him. "You should try it sometime."

Ethan didn't smile. "Do you think he knows I saw the file?"

Jake shrugged. "He always knows more than he lets on."

Ethan's eyes scanned the ballroom. "Then why this party? Why now?"

Jake glanced toward Richard. "Because he's hiding something. Or about to unleash something worse."

Ethan shook his head slightly. His thoughts weren't just on the file-they were on Anna. The way she stormed into the study. The weight behind her words. The fire behind her eyes. That girl wasn't going to vanish quietly. She was here to rewrite the narrative.

---

Across town, Anna stared at the gold-trimmed invitation on her nightstand. The script was elegant, impersonal:

> The Blackwell Family cordially invites you to an evening of celebration and charity.

Margaret stood behind her, arms crossed. "You're not seriously thinking of going."

Anna turned. "He invited me."

"He wants to control you. You walk into that room, you become part of his game."

"I need answers. If I want to understand who I am, I can't keep hiding."

Margaret's eyes softened. "Then don't let him rewrite your story."

"I won't," Anna said. "I'll walk in there on my terms."

Margaret reached out and took Anna's hand, squeezing it with a faint tremor. "You are stronger than I ever was."

Anna smiled sadly. "You gave me that strength."

---

The gala was everything Anna expected-and worse. Flashing cameras, golden lights, socialites with plastic smiles. She wore a sleek black dress Mia had loaned her, elegant but simple. When she stepped out of the car, heads turned. Whispers began.

"That's her... the girl from the hospital."

"Is she the one the media's talking about?"

"She doesn't look like one of them."

Anna's heartbeat pounded. But she walked forward. Her heels clicked against the marble, her posture tall. Each step reminded her that she didn't come here for validation. She came for truth.

Inside, the ballroom was alive with music and murmurs. Richard stood at the center, shaking hands, smiling tightly. Ethan spotted her almost instantly.

His breath caught. She looked... different. Stronger. Like someone who had walked through fire and chose to carry the smoke on her shoulders.

Jake nudged him. "Well, damn. The girl's got presence."

Ethan said nothing. His eyes followed her as she moved through the crowd like she belonged there.

Anna walked past waiters, past raised eyebrows, straight toward Richard.

"You invited me," she said.

"I did."

"Why?"

"Because you deserve to see how we protect what's ours."

"I'm not yours."

Richard's smile never wavered. "You'll learn. Blood has its duties."

Before she could answer, the music shifted. A spotlight swiveled to the grand staircase.

Gasps swept through the room.

At the top stood a girl in a shimmering gold gown. Her skin glowed against the fabric, her posture regal. Her eyes scanned the crowd with calm detachment.

And beside her, tall and composed, was Eleanor Blackwell-Richard's wife. Elegant in an emerald green gown, her icy presence made even the boldest guests bow their heads.

But in the shadows behind the staircase, hidden partially by a velvet curtain and the dimmest corner of the room, stood another figure. Eniola Bello. Her face partially turned, her dark eyes fixed on the girl she once bore. She kept to the shadows, hidden from the crowd, present only for herself.

Richard stepped forward.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he said smoothly, "thank you for being here tonight. Family is the foundation of every empire. And I'd like to introduce someone very important."

He turned toward the girl in gold.

"This is my daughter. Lena Blackwell."

Murmurs exploded around the ballroom.

Anna froze. Her breath hitched.

Daughter?

Ethan blinked. "What the hell...?"

Jake nearly dropped his glass. "Since when does your father have a daughter?"

Anna couldn't tear her eyes away. Lena was younger than her-sixteen, maybe. But the resemblance to Eleanor was striking. The same cheekbones. The same commanding aura.

Anna's stomach twisted. A legitimate heir. A daughter raised in luxury, introduced like royalty.

And Eniola-still standing in the shadows. Watching her daughter stand in the light.

Suddenly, everything felt too loud. Too bright. The walls seemed to lean in.

Margaret's voice echoed in her mind: Don't let him rewrite your story.

Anna turned sharply and slipped out onto the terrace, gasping for air.

Behind her, Ethan followed.

"Anna," he said softly.

She turned. "You knew?"

"No. I swear. I didn't even know she existed."

Anna laughed bitterly. "And yet, here she is. The perfect daughter. The one he chose to raise."

"He didn't raise her alone," Ethan said. "She had a mother who stayed."

"While mine was forced to vanish."

Ethan stepped closer. "He's losing control. That's why he's doing this. He's throwing everything he has into keeping the narrative alive."

Anna looked up at him. Her eyes brimmed but didn't fall. "Then maybe it's time someone rewrote the ending."

He didn't touch her. But he didn't leave.

They stood there, silent, the sound of music and laughter muffled behind them.

Anna shook her head slowly, the pain turning sharp. "Why is he doing this? Why now? Why parade her like some heir when I've been discarded like trash?"

Ethan didn't answer.

She turned to him with eyes full of betrayal. "You knew something was wrong and still-you said nothing. You let me walk into that house alone."

"I didn't know it would be like this-"

"Of course you didn't," she said, voice breaking. "Because you were never the one who had to fight to exist in this family."

He took a step forward. "Anna..."

But she raised her hand. "Don't. I don't want sympathy. I want justice."

With a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders, swiped at a tear, and whispered to herself, "It's all going to be alright. I will survive this."

Then, she walked past Ethan without another word, her head held high, the fire in her chest rekindled.

---

Back inside, Lena smiled politely, her fingers entwined with Eleanor's as they navigated the crowd. But her eyes darted around, searching-curious.

Anna stepped back into the ballroom. Her entrance didn't go unnoticed.

And as she moved through the crowd, Lena spotted her.

Their eyes locked.

Anna's heart skipped.

Lena tilted her head, studying her. Not with malice, but with curiosity. Like she was looking into a mirror slightly warped by time.

She took a hesitant step forward. So did Anna.

The room held its breath.

And just as the space between them began to shrink-

Someone stepped between them.

"Miss Hartley," a deep voice said, firm and cold.

It was one of Richard's security guards.

Lena blinked in surprise.

Anna stared at him, then over his shoulder at Lena-who still hadn't looked away.

The silence between the girls pulsed with unspoken questions.

And just like that, the moment was shattered.

To be continued...